


Two Minds, One Soul

by kumihomimi



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Begging, Biting, Body Worship, Codependency, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cunnilingus, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Fantasizing, Fluff and Smut, Hair-pulling, Jealousy, Marking, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Pining, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Overstimulation, POV Alternating, Possessive Behavior, Pre-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Self-Hatred, Sharing a Bed, Sibling Incest, Sibling Love, Sleeping Together, Squirting, Teasing, Twincest, Vaginal Fingering, Wet Dream, maxicest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:13:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29694159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kumihomimi/pseuds/kumihomimi
Summary: The Maximoff twins have always been in love with each other, but they don't notice until their repressed feelings begin to present themselves through sexual fantasies. Wanda, fully enamored, is more than eager to make things official, but Pietro is hesitant to submit to his emotions.
Relationships: Pietro Maximoff & Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff/Wanda Maximoff, Quicksilver/Scarlet Witch
Comments: 21
Kudos: 61





	1. Sleeping Peacefully

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for fun because watching WandaVision is stirring up all of my Maxicest feels, and I really miss Pietro, the REAL Pietro.

Wanda

Wanda bolted upright with a piercing gasp, startled awake by an exceptionally loud barrage of thunder. It rattled her window as it continued to reverberate in the icy dark of the stormy, winter sky. Her breaths came in shallow, panicked bursts as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and blinked into the unusual lack of illumination of her bedroom. Her nightlight was off, and Wanda hated being alone in the dark. In the pitch black she listened for the gentle whirring of fan blades overhead or the soft hum of her space heater and was met with a silence. The power must have gone out.

Slowly, she reached out to her nightstand with uncertain hands to retrieve her phone, and as she lifted the device in her shaky grip, the screen’s harsh, white light glared blindingly. Wanda whimpered, defeated, upon discovering the time was 2:30 A.M. She had only managed an hour of sleep before the storm had woken her.

‘ _At least the battery is fully charged_ ,’ she mused internally.

The sky above exploded with the flickering flash and crackle of lightning followed by booming thunder that had the audacity to be more deafening than its predecessor. With a squeal, Wanda hurriedly covered her ears with her hands and curled her knees into her chest. Small tears began to stream from her closed eyes as she rocked herself back and forth. She waited for the last of the rumbling to fade before taking a deep breath and jumping out of the relative safety of her bed. It was easy enough for her to abandon her room, for she would feel far more secure where she was headed.

Wrapped in the plush fabric of her favorite blanket and guided by the illumination of her phone screen, Wanda padded down the chilled floor of the hallway toward her brother’s room. She could have used muscle memory alone to navigate her way, since she had walked this route in the cover of darkness so many times. A small turn of the handle and push of the door earned her entry, and she stepped across the threshold into the sound of her twin snoring softly.

Pietro had always been the heavy sleeper, so of course the boisterous weather had not disturbed him in the slightest. She dropped her blanket at his bedside in favor of joining him beneath his pale blue comforter. It was not until Wanda intertwined her bare legs with his and her near icy skin collided his warmth, that Pietro stirred.

“Almost twenty years old and you’re still climbing into bed with your big brother because you’re scared of thunderstorms,” he mumbled, his voice low and scratchy with sleep, as he curled an arm around her waist, pulled her to his chest, and fell back asleep in an instant. Tonight, like most nights, he was the big spoon, the protector.

“From even the edge of sleep you still tease me,” she grumbled in response despite knowing that he could not hear her as she snuggled into him, and god, he was so warm that Wanda was immediately steeped in comfort and ease.

They had always done this: sought out the other in times of trouble or distress. To one twin, the other was the most soothing presence they could possibly possess, especially since the loss of their parents. Cuddled against the person she loved most in all the world, lulled by the steady thrum of his heartbeat, sleep took Wanda almost as quickly as it had Pietro, and thankfully, no nightmares would find her tonight. She was safe now.

~~~~~~~~

A beam of bright and early morning sunlight streamed through an unfortunate separation of Pietro’s opaque, navy curtains to shine across Wanda’s sleeping face. For the second time now, she was abruptly awakened long before she had been ready to be conscious. With a whine, she lifted her hand to shield her viridian eyes while the fogginess of sleep slowly faded from her vision. Wanda became more cognitive with each passing second, noting that the power had returned and sighing when she registered the weight of Pietro’s muscled arm still draped across her slender waist. There was no point in attempting a drastic reposition, for escaping the heaviness of her brother’s sleeping body was practically impossible. She settled instead for nestling against his chest once more.

‘ _If I turn my head just right and scoot back a bit… Perfect_ ,’ Wanda smiled to herself, pleased with her successful evasion of the sun.

Her motions inadvertently pulled Pietro ever so slightly from his snoring slumber, and he compressed his grip on her, squeezing her tightly and burying his face into the dark waves of her long hair. Wanda struggled momentarily to make space for the rise and fall of her chest in his coiled vice when she felt something prodding against her backside and stopped breathing all together. Pietro continued to make small, restless adjustments to his position, unknowingly moving his hips forward, and now Wanda could feel the full length of him flush against her entrance. Being clad in only her panties and he in his boxers, little was left to Wanda’s imagination. His hand snaked beneath the fabric of the oversized t-shirt she had stolen, no, “borrowed” from him to knead the soft flesh of her stomach with determined fingertips. Racing thoughts zipped through her mind, almost faster than she could even pick them apart, faster than she could process.

‘ _He must be dreaming… Dreaming about some other girl from campus or some porn or something. This would never happen if he were aware that I’m… that it’s me he’s cuddling…_ ’

From within the depths of his dream, Pietro began to rut against his sister, soft whimpers spilling from his lips, and Wanda choked back a moan as he rubbed against her most sensitive place. A bright pink blush burned her cheeks as she clasped her hand over her mouth. She was so terribly ashamed to admit it, but she was getting wet. Really wet. Wanda just couldn’t help it. It was all too much: his moans, his warmth, even his smell. But she stayed perfectly silent, impossibly still for there was no way she could live through the embarrassment if he were to wake up right now.

“W-Wanda-aa,” he groaned weakly against the back of her neck as he finished.

The whisps of his hot, shaky breath danced atop her skin, sprouting goosebumps down her spine, and she could feel the heat of his sticky mess through their underwear as she laid, gasping, emerald eyes wide with disbelief as she replayed the last few minutes over in her mind. He had been dreaming about her after all. Pietro had imagined a lewd dream about her, his _sister_ , and she was so soaking wet, so pathetically horny because of him, her _brother_.

From the world beyond Pietro’s bedroom came the crashing thud of garbage trucks on their weekly commute. Wanda, fearful that such a noise would wake her brother and empowered by the fear of impending awkwardness, threw back the comforter, slipped from her brother’s now loosened grasp, and ran as fast as she could into the privacy of her own room.

Dizzy from panic and the sudden physical exertion, she fell to her knees, heart pounding against her ribs, threatening to burst from her chest. Both hands shook as they pushed long, messy strands of hair from her flushed face. Her mind was a whirlwind of half-formed thoughts that she struggled to understand and register, so she instead focused on calming her breathing, fearing that she would pass out if not. After a minute or two, Wanda had eradicated the confusion, the guilt, and any hesitation until nothing was left but the searing memory of Pietro pressed so deliciously against her heated core.

She stood too quickly on trembling legs and stumbled toward the top drawer of her black, wooden dresser where her frantic fingers delved beneath neatly folded rows of socks and panties and stockings to retrieve what Wanda knew was the only solution to her problem: her favorite toy, a little silver vibrator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The twins speak with their Sokovian accents, of course, and their occasionally imperfect English is intentional. I promise that the chapters will get longer as this progresses.


	2. Regretful Recollection

Pietro

Pietro groaned as a sudden chill breezed across his questionably blanket-less body and disturbed his slumber. Blindly, he reached out, searching for solace in the warmth of his twin to find nothing but empty sheets. The baby blue of his eyes fluttered open to confirm that Wanda was no longer there, and as Pietro stretched, he was suddenly extremely thankful that she wasn’t. He could feel the tell-tale stiffness of his boxers, hardened by the now dried mess he did not remember making.

“Shit. It’s been forever since the last time that happened,” he mumbled to himself, cringing with humiliation. “Must have been a really good dream…”

His thoughts wondered in search of the memory of his fleeting pleasure, trying to remember the fantasy that had been so tantalizing, so satisfying that it had manifested as his first wet dream in years. Pietro sat up and stretched once more, willing the last of the lingering drowsiness from his body, when he noticed Wanda’s favorite blanket, discarded on the floor. It displayed an intricate floral pattern that was once red in color, but she had carried it around for so long, washed it so many times in the years since their mother had gifted it to her when they were children, that the fibers had faded into a pale pink. As one of Wanda’s most coveted treasures, it was never left just lying around.

Wanda. Where had she gone anyway? Only on the rarest of days did she wake before him, and to have left her blanket behind as well… Pietro was sure that something was wrong. Blanket in hand, he detoured from the shower that he so longed for in search of his little sister, full of concern, but as he stepped into the hallway, he could hear her muffled voice.

Soft moans cut through the silence of their chilly apartment. Pietro blushed at the immediate realization of what his sister was doing, but it’s not like the twins had never accidentally overheard through the thin walls or barged in on the other while masturbating. They were adults, single adults, with needs, so they never thought anything of it. It didn’t matter.

‘ _A bit early for such things, don’t you think?_ ’ he pondered before realizing his hypocrisy.

With a shake of his head, Pietro decided that he would just leave Wanda’s blanket outside her door, hang it on the knob for her to find once she was, um, finished, and head to the bathroom for his much-needed shower. As he strode towards her room, his heart skipped a beat. Mixed in among her soft cries and mewls, she had moaned _his name_. He must be hearing things. There was just no way. Inch by inch he crept forward, his body moving of its own accord, entranced, determined to know for sure, and then he was standing in her door frame with bated breath. Her door was ajar, and his mind raced as he could not stop himself from peaking in, and he was hopelessly captivated by what he saw.

“Aah… Mmm b-big brother, ple-ease!” Wanda cried softly, desperately. She sounded so close to her end, and Pietro had never been so hard, so suddenly in all his life.

Her slender physique was sprawled atop her unmade bed, blushed from head to toe, her head was thrown back, eyes closed, and she bit into the soft pink of her lip with each moan. The t-shirt she wore, his shirt, had been pushed up to reveal the supple flesh of her perky breasts that jiggled so slightly with each gasping breath. Pietro couldn’t see where her fingers had busied themselves, but he could hear the gentle buzzing of what he guessed was a vibrator, hear just how _wet_ she was. Wet for him. And god, he could imagine it… Just how soft she must be, how warm… He could practically feel her beneath him, around him.

“Aaahhh P-Pietro!” Wanda squealed as her toes curled, legs tensing and twitching, as she finished, and the scarlet sheets beneath her began to darken with spilled arousal.

Pietro had to bite into the flesh of the hand over his mouth to stifle a moan. It took every ounce of self-control in his body to not follow Wanda’s lead and mess himself yet again just from watching her salacious display, and in that moment, at the sound of her whimpering cry, he remembered his dream from the night before. He looked to his darling sister as she convulsed with aftershocks and was washed with chilling realization and burning shame. This was wrong. So fucking wrong. His head spun as he stumbled back, moving, nearly running, as fast as he could into the bathroom, into the shower, away from his twin, where he turned the hot water onto full blast. Pietro stood beneath the scalding stream but couldn’t purge the fantasy, the sin, from his mind.

In his dream, he had imagined Wanda, imagined his sister, dressed in black lace and those dammed thigh high socks that drove him mad. He had imagined kissing each inch of her rose-scented skin, imagined fucking her as she moaned and whined and cried out with love for him until he filled her with his seed. He was disgusting. As if under a spell, his hand found its way to his aching, throbbing cock, bewitched by the thoughts of what he had just witnessed. His sister pleasing herself to the thought of _him_. His sister begging _him_ for more. His sister screaming _his_ name as she came all over her bed…

“F-fuck!” he grunted through clenched teeth as his orgasm hit him like a brick to the face. No, a brick to the face that had been hurling towards him at the speed of sound. Pietro was blinking the stars from his vision when a sharp knock rapped against the door.

“Pietrooo!” came Wanda’s sing-song voice from beyond the bathroom. “Hurry up so you can go pick up some breakfast. I’m hungry!!”

Wanda. There was no way he could face her after everything that had happened that morning. The sound of her voice alone twisted his stomach into knots. Pietro hurried through the motions of washing himself, still dazed, and immerged minutes later. The soap and water may have cleansed him, but he still felt so fucking filthy. After drying his messy mop of silver hair and brushing his teeth, he padded into the kitchen, steam still rising from his heated skin, to find his precious moonbeam of a sister, still clad in only her panties and his t-shirt. They had always been comfortable dressing this way in front of the other, but, suddenly, things were…different.

With her back to him, Wanda reached for her favorite coffee mug that sat one shelf higher than it should have. As she stretched, rising onto the tips of her toes, the tail of her shirt followed suit, exposing the curve of her perfect backside, and Pietro’s mouth went dry at the mere sight. The cup was just out of the range of her dainty, onxy-painted fingertips. Wanda turned, still stretching, still exposing, to give him her best puppy pout with the emerald of her eyes gleaming and her bottom lip poked out just so. God, she was adorable.

“Big brother, can you help me out?” she whined. He had never heard her call him that before… not before her escapades this morning. Pietro had to swallow the memory along with the lump in his throat.

“Since when do you call me that?” he chided and reached over her head to retrieve the mug. He had never been quite so aware of their size difference, of how petite her body was compared to his own.

“Are you _not_ my big brother?” she giggled and gazed up at him momentarily before turning away and busying herself with the preparation of her coffee. Pietro could have sworn that a soft blush had painted her pale cheeks.

“I guess I am, but you usually don’t like to admit it… Anyway, from where did you want breakfast?” he inquired. Wanda had always possessed certain aversion to people that had only gotten worse since they had moved to America five months ago, so she didn’t leave the house unless she absolutely had to. He didn’t mind going anyway. Pietro loved his sister more than life itself and would do anything for her. Even things he shouldn’t…

“That new bakery a few streets over?” she chewed her lips as she thought aloud. “I have read great reviews. I wonder if it will be as yummy as our favorite from back home?”

“Sounds good. I’ll be back soon.” He nodded, turned, and stepped a bit too quickly from the kitchen, gathering his wallet and coat before stepping out into the cold. The weather wasn’t too harsh. He loved the snow, actually, and the bakery was close by, so Pietro decided a walk would be nice, therapeutic even. He could use this time to think, to gather his thoughts in peace.

 _‘Before, in the kitchen, was she… being flirty?? She had cried out_ my name _when she… No. She’s not acting any different. I must have imagined it. I must be going crazy. She’s my sister. My twin. She would never. I… I am disgusting for what I did.’_

Pietro wrapped the pale, grey warmth of his jacket tighter around his form as he shivered, not from the cold, but from the inescapable, dreadful feeling that someone was watching him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pietro is the more morally sound of the two, so he's a bit harsh on himself.


	3. Dissonance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is as long as the previous two added together! I wanted this to be a lengthy, heavily detailed chapter to help fill in some blanks.

Wanda

At the closing of the front door, Wanda exhaled forcefully, for she felt as though she had been holding her breath ever since her brother initially stepped into the kitchen. Coffee in hand, she carried herself to the living room sofa on wobbling legs that were still weak from her shameless, lewd antics where she lounged in a particularly cozy pool of sunlight by the window.

She curled her knees to her chest beneath her blanket, thankful that Pietro had been thoughtful enough to return it to her, and since he was no longer here for her to show off to, she could stop pretending that she was not freezing from her lack of proper clothing. With a pensive sigh, she replayed the events of the morning over in her mind, thinking of Pietro, what she had done, and everything she had felt as she let the heat of her mug thaw her frosty fingers. It all seemed like a dream.

She gazed longingly from her perch after the fleeting figure of her brother as he ventured through the shimmering snow several stories below. Mesmerized by his sliver hair that gleamed as brilliantly as the icy precipitation that blanketed the ground, she realized that the feelings swirling in her chest had always been there, just repressed perhaps, buried beneath nerves and anxiety and fear of rejection by both society and by Pietro himself.

Sure, he was her twin, her brother, but what did it matter really? She loved him more than anything in the universe, and that was enough in Wanda’s eyes. Never in her life had she ever felt love like this for anyone, and she now knew it was because she had always been destined for just one person, the one that had been with her since her beginning.

“I love you, Pietro. With all my heart,” she whispered to her darling brother, so far away as he rounded the corner and disappeared from her sight. “I will make you mine… mine alone. No matter what,” At the audible admission, the barbed tightness that had been tangled in her heart disappeared, transformed, and exploded into butterflies that fluttered within her, warm and whimsical and jubilant.

Wanda giggled to herself, verdant eyes glistening with tears of joy. In this moment, she was the happiest she had been in so long. She felt free, like a fog had been lifted, like she was floating, and she would do anything to have her brother join her in this elation. Anything. Coincidentally, thanks to Pietro’s dream, she was certain that he felt the same in some way, and she was over the moon at the faintest flicker of hope that her brother requited the desires she possessed. All she would have to do is make him realize as she had that each of their destinies belonged to the other.

After wiping her eyes, Wanda gulped down the luke-warm remnants of her coffee and skipped, practically jumping in jubilation, to the bathroom for the quickest of showers before her brother’s return. With no time to be indulgent, she washed herself with her favorite floral soaps and hastily cleaned up any stray body hair, just in case, in what was probably a new personal best for shortest shower time. Drying herself was a task in which she exercised a bit more caution, given her inclination for clumsiness when excited, and was careful not to slip on the wet, tiled floor.

Wrapped in a towel, she dashed to her room to dress in lace trimmed panties and fresh pajamas, proper ones made from a silky, scarlet material that fastened with shiny, black buttons. Wanda looked herself over in her full-length mirror, decided to leave her top two buttons undone in hopes of revealing a bit of her generous cleavage, and nodded in approval of the subtlety of her ever so slightly seductive appearance. The soaking length of her dark, wavy hair was another story all together, because Wanda hated when her hair was wet, especially with the apartment being so chilly. She despised how it would cling to her back and soak her clothes, so she toweled as much of the water from it as she could manage. For the first time in her life, she was genuinely thankful that her tresses had tangled themselves into several knots, and she grinned mischievously as the vague outline of a plan began to take shape before remembering that she was supposed to be in a hurry. She padded back to the living room window to look out, just in time to spot Pietro returning to their building.

“Perfect,” she whispered to herself, shaking with anticipation as she ran her hand down the cold glass over the approaching figure of her brother.

Wanda returned to the kitchen and busied herself with the preparation of a cup of coffee for Pietro, for he was surely freezing after his journey. Three sugars and as much choco-hazelnut cream as would fit into the cup joined the bitter, black liquid to create her brother’s perfect morning elixir. It was packed with an overwhelming sweetness, and Wanda could not help but grin at the realization that Pietro’s coffee preferences were so much like him; an often cold, hard exterior secretly brimming with a warm, sunny disposition and candied heart that could melt even the iciest of souls. She jumped at the metallic clinking of the front door being unlocked and swung open.

“I’m home,” came Pietro’s less than energetic announcement as he rounded the corner into the kitchen and laid the large bakery box on the table. His cheeks and nose were slightly reddened from the icy sting of the cold, giving him the appearance of blushing. Adorable.

“I’m so glad you’re back. Here, I made you some coffee,” she extended the mug to him, grinning from ear to ear. She just could not help it. The mere sight of him was making her heart do backflips. Suspicion shone brightly in her brother’s cerulean eyes as he took the cup, his gaze darting from her to the coffee and back again.

“Okay, what did you do to it?” he inquired with a frowny, deadpan expression.

“Nothing! I just wanted to make you some coffee as a thank you for getting breakfast is all. Plus, I figured that you would want a warm drink after being in such weather, and I even made it just how you like.” Wanda spoke a bit faster than normal as her nerves took control, and she felt the heat of a faint blush across her pale cheeks. She prayed he would not notice.

“Oh?” Pietro took a small sip of the coffee before closing his eyes with a content sigh. “You remembered… You must want something, huh?” he added with a curious smirk before further indulging in the beverage.

“No...! Well, yes, actually,” Wanda fidgeted with one of the buttons on her pajamas, unable to look him in the eye. “Could you maybe brush my hair out for me? There are so many tangles from my shower,”

“Sure, but don’t you want to eat first? Come, see what I’ve brought for you,” Pietro gestured to the box on the table before opening it to reveal its sugary treasures. “This one, the strawberry and cream danish, is for you, and I got a chocolate one for me. But there are other things too: a few croissants, a couple blueberry muffins, and even a pecan cinnamon roll. These American bakers do love their sugary breads, huh?” Pietro was always talking about how sweet the bread in America was, and Wanda thought it was a bit hypocritical, considering how much sugar he preferred in his coffee.

“Aww, thank you so much, Pietro!” Wanda squealed excitedly and stretched to hug him around his neck. His warm, sweet, and spiced scent filled her nose, and she had to stop her thoughts from drifting dangerously at the feeling of the firm, toned panes of his muscled chest against her. Pietro has always had a beautiful body, tall and fit and lean. Years of being a track superstar will do that to a person.

The twins collected their respective pastries and dined together in relative silence, simply enjoying the other’s presence. Wanda caught herself staring at her brother, her breathtakingly gorgeous twin brother, several times while they ate, but thankfully, her actions went unnoticed. His beautifully sculpted face was contoured by the dark shadow of his unshaven stubble and framed by a mess of silver locks. In the months since he had persuaded her into dying his hair for him, his dark roots had grown out a bit, and Wanda thought the two-toned look suited him perfectly. He had the pinkest lips, which she just adored, and she was particularly mesmerized by the way the oceans of his eyes glistened like diamonds in the morning sun. To her, he was the image of perfection.

Before she realized it, Wanda had eaten all her breakfast. She had forgotten to savor the pastry and compare it to the memories of her favorite baked sweets from home, but she had much to do. Wanda scurried off to collect her hairbrush before returning to Pietro, who had relocated to the couch to finish his coffee and watch a bit of television. As children, the twins spent endless hours watching American television. It was a wonderfully ideal distraction from the harsh reality of the world around them, of the lives they had been forced to live, and it now served as a reminder of the simpler times when they still had parents.

Wanda pushed the fuzzy memories from her with a small shake of her head as she joined her brother on the sofa, scooting a bit closer to him than how the pair usually sat. She laid the purple plastic of her brush on his leg and turned to sit with her back to him, pulling her legs up onto the couch to cross them together comfortably.

“Whenever you’re ready, brother,” she chimed, and he leaned forward to set his cup down onto the coffee table before turning towards her.

“You haven’t asked me to do this for you since we were children,” he recollected aloud.

“I hope it’s not a bother,” Wanda replied meekly, remembering how badly the shampoo the orphanage provided would dry out her hair and how Pietro would always _volunteer_ to detangle it for her. It had taken a bit of practice for him to learn how to efficiently do so without accidentally pulling her hair.

“Of course not. It’s my job to care for you, little sister.” Wanda blushed at his reply, able to hear the sincerity of his words. Pietro took the mass of her hair in his grasp, brushing from the bottom and gradually moving up towards the worst of the tangles. He occasionally traded the brush out in favor of picking at particularly troublesome knots with is long and surprisingly nimble fingers, and slowly but surely, Wanda’s hair was returned to its smooth, silky glory.

“Okay, it’s all better,” Pietro informed her as he ran his fingers through her hair to ensure his words were truth. Wanda’s eyes nearly rolled back into her head as his lightly calloused fingertips brushed gently over her scalp in slow, soothing strokes, again and again, and she hummed in approval of the affection, practically melting in his hands. She felt Pietro’s weight shift behind her, and she heard…

‘ _Did he just… smell me…?_ ’ Surprise and disbelief plagued her features and her cheeks burned with a deep, scarlet blush as his warm breath breezed through her hair and tickled the back of her neck. ‘ _This is it… A sign. This is my chance_ ,’

The world around Wanda seemed to move in slow motion as she pivoted towards her brother, discovering as she turned, that his face was mere inches from her own. Pietro’s eyes were bright with curiosity, but there was something else there too, a shadow within the brilliance. Something darker, something hungry. Heart racing wildly, Wanda’s wistful gaze darted to his lips, and she licked her own nervously, instinctually, and time around the twins still crawled as she tilted her chin up. Moving her mouth ever closer to his, close enough now for their breaths to intertwine, she closed her eyes and-

Wanda was snapped back to reality at the weight of Pietro’s hands on her shoulders. The same hands that had so delicately, so lovingly combed and stroked her hair just moments ago were now pushing her away, holding her at arm’s length. Bewildered, she looked to her brother, searching for the spark that had previously illuminated him only to find that it had been smothered out, replaced by a look of shame and guilt.

“Pietro… What are- “

“No, Wanda,” he cut her off, no longer meeting her gaze, voice thick with remorse. “We… can’t do this.”

“I don’t understand. You were just- “

“It doesn’t matter!” he interrupted once more, raising his voice slightly as he stood and stepped away, looking anywhere but at her. Wanda clasped her hand over her mouth, shaking her head in disbelief, unable to process exactly what he was saying. Pietro began to pace back and forth, as he often in times of confusion and distress, sifting through his thoughts. A long, silent moment passed before he finally turned to face her. “This-“ he gestured to Wanda and to himself “-is wrong. It cannot happen. Not ever. No matter-”

“I know about the dream, Pietro!” It was her turn to interrupt, for she could not believe what she was hearing. The words he was speaking did not align with his actions, with what Wanda _knew_ he felt. “I was there when it happened! You held me close, rubbing against me the whole time! You even called out my name as you came!” she cried as her voice wavered and hot tears began to stream down her flushed cheeks.

Pietro finally turned to face her, shocked and mortified, as his stormy blue eyes locked on her weeping green ones. Wanda could see, could practically feel the conflict within him as clear as day, but as he closed his eyes, and steeled his expression, he became unreadable, even to her. He had erected the cold, stony wall that he had always built between himself and others to keep them from getting in, from knowing his thoughts and feelings, from seeing his true self, but he had never done this to Wanda. Until now. Wanda could have sworn she felt her heart split and shatter within her breast.

“I’m sorry, Wanda,” he concluded coldly, his low voice ringing with finality.

She was shaking now as her emotions overwhelmed her. She sprang from the couch, dizzy with panic and despair, and pushed past Pietro as she ran, sobbing, blinded by her tears. As soon as she was within the safety of her room, she slammed the door and locked it. For the first time in her life, she wanted to be as far away from her brother as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a cliffhanger!! The next chapter will be switching back to Pietro's POV. That's a bit harder for me to write, but it will be up in a few days, so no worries! :3  
> Also, Pietro’s constant criticism of sugary American bread is a nod to the last chapter of my favorite Maxicest fic, The Volunteers. I adore and highly recommended it! <3


	4. Miserable Masochism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 75% of this chapter is just Pietro being angsty, but we do get a small look at what Wanda is up too at the end.

Pietro

Pietro stumbled, dazed and light-headed, back to the couch to sit with his head in his hands, and Wanda’s delicately sweet, floral scent still lingered on his skin, exactly as he had remembered and recreated in his dream. That stupid fucking dream that started this whole mess. He had to close his eyes to stop the spinning of the room around him, but each time he closed them, he could only see the image of Wanda the moment he had denied her, refused her. He could see just how badly he had hurt her. He knew he had broken her heart. It would be burned into his brain for the rest of his miserable life.

“God dammit!” he cried through clenched teeth, grasping handfuls of his hair with trembling fists and shaking with emotion. So. Many. Emotions. Anger, regret, guilt, and sorrow all swirled within his chest, strangling his heart. He was breathing too fast; his pulse was too rapid. He was having a panic attack, but the usual remedy to his anxiety was locked in her room, hiding from him, and crying her eyes out. Wanda’s anguish was audible from across the apartment, and it was all because of him.

He had led her on, unknowingly at first, but then selfishly so. The dream had been an incident, an ephemeral, subconscious fantasy, born of her immediate proximity and inadvertent intimacy. Walking in on her had been an accident as well, but he had made the conscious decision to stay, to watch, to long for her, and his actions in the shower had been the product of that. How many times had he stolen secret, greedy glances down her shirt at breakfast? Worst of all was when she came to him, her older brother, her protector, to ask the simplest, purest of favors, and he had exploited her in a moment of vulnerability. Inconsiderately stroking her beautiful hair and indulging in her intoxicatingly alluring fragrance.

Sure, his actions on the couch were innocent enough, but his thoughts in that moment had been far from even a shadow of moral decency. His mind had been alight with bright, flashing portraits of Wanda. Her slender legs as they trembled with pleasure. Her beautiful backside, perfectly curved and round, exposed just for him. Her delectable breasts on display by the low, tantalizingly revealing configuration of her pajamas.

He had been so enchanted by her that he let his desire blur his morality, control his actions, and blind him to Wanda’s feelings. Wanda’s feelings. Pietro knew that this was more to her than fleeting, hollow, sexual desire initiated by the physical closeness of two bodies. That, to her, this was love. She was in love with him, her twin brother.

He could see it, see the way that her verdant eyes sparkled when she gazed up at him, full of adoration and wonder. He recalled her excitement, giddy and jubilant, when he had returned home. She had been so damn happy to see him, and all he had been concerned with was the deep plunge of her pajama top, the exhilarative feeling of her warm, supple body against his own as she hugged him, the sweet allure of her soft, shiny, rose-scented hair. He craved her body so intensely, so desperately that his entire form ached with longing.

‘ _I am fucking disgusting_ ,’ he concluded for what seemed like the millionth time that morning as his stomach twisted into knots, and he felt sick, nauseated by his own conflicting desires and actions.

It had been far too many years since he or Wanda had stepped foot into a synagogue or even entertained the notion of religion, but the fear being damned for lusting after his twin sister from crept into his consciousness like a fog. It might have been too late to save himself, but he could not bear to risk Wanda’s eternal soul.

For her own preservation he had to refuse her, deny her, and she would forgive him eventually… Wouldn’t she? Pietro and Wanda had disagreed on many things before, but never had they reached such a state of dissonance. He had never seen her so hurt, especially by his own doing.

‘ _What if… she hates me?_ ’ The thought chilled Pietro to the bone. Creeping shivers crawled down his spine. The idea was something he didn’t dare to utter aloud, for verbalizing such a fear would make it all too real, all too terrifying. He didn’t know if he could possibly live with himself in a world without Wanda’s companionship. Without her near clairvoyant intuition to talk him down, keep him grounded. Without the sunny warmth of her smile and the infectious melody of her laughter. Without the way her little hands fit in his own, with their fingers locked together like puzzle pieces. Without her love.

‘ _What if I… if_ we _just… No_ ,’ he crashed that train of thought before it could gain any speed, any traction. If Pietro were to entertain even a fraction of that dangerous idea, of his desire, it would become insuppressible. If he even so much as fanned the embers smoldering in his heart, they would spark and burst into an inferno of passion that would consume them both. For the greater good, those thoughts must be sealed away, locked in safe at the bottom of his consciousness, buried beyond perception.

The sudden sound of his phone, metal vibrating atop the glass of the coffee table, pierced the still air, startling Pietro from his self-induced frenzy. He retrieved the device and groaned at the text displayed across the screen. In the morning’s chaos, he had forgotten that he was supposed to be expecting company.

The captain and co-captain of the university track team had invited themselves over after Pietro had left them beyond impressed with his record-breaking speeds at tryouts. The entire reason he and Wanda had been able to come to America in the first place was the one-in-a-million track scholarship he had been awarded. He didn’t really care to make friends; he just needed to make a good social impression. Sure, these two fellow students couldn’t take his scholarship away over something as trivial as Pietro being unamicable, but they were upperclassmen, seniors, with a bit of pull. If Pietro were to do well this year, he may end up taking the title of captain for himself next season and reaping all the benefits entailed, namely extending his scholarship.

It was important for the twins to stay in America, finish their studies, and return to Sokovia with the ability to make real changes. Mama and Papa had always told them that an education would open doors in life that would otherwise stay locked forever. They wanted to change the world but participating in protests and rallies could only do so much for the greater good.

Another message illuminated Pietro’s phone. It was from the captain again, informing him that they should be arriving at 3 P.M. and it was already after 2. Pietro dreaded having to inform Wanda of this, for she despised when their appartement was occupied by anyone other than themselves. This new ordeal added on top of the already horrendous events of that morning would result in a nightmare for her.

With a sigh, Pietro stood and stretched the stiffness and tension from his limbs. He hadn’t realized just how long he had been toiling away, hunched over in the same position, but it had been hours since their argument. Pietro hesitantly approached to hallway, listening for his sister and hearing nothing. He held his breath as he inched closer.

“Wanda,” he called softly and knocked on the unyielding barrier of her locked door. “I’m really sorry, but we’re having guests later. I just wanted to let you know so that you could stay hiding in your room,” He pressed his ear to the door, trying to detect any movement within. A pang of guilt pierced his side when only silence answered.

‘ _She must have cried herself to sleep_ ,’ he assumed, and the conclusion nearly broke his heart. Hot tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, but the blinked them back. He glared longingly at the door, wishing he could see her, hold her, comfort her, but he couldn’t force her. Patience would be his only ally in the fight against his guilt, for he knew Wanda would only come to him when she was ready. Until then, he would wait. He turned and set off to his own room to dress and style his hair before cleaning up around the apartment in preparation for their company.

Wanda

Wanda laid, listening intently as her brother stepped away, having long grown numb to the cold of the floor beneath her cheek. Weak from exertion, her arms shook as she lifted herself from the ground. She sat up and pulled her knees to her chest, catching an unfortunate glimpse of her reflection as she moved. Wanda crawled toward the stranger, the creature in the mirror. It almost resembled her but was marred with red, splotchy skin, puffy eyes, a swollen nose, and dry, cracking lips.

“Misery isn’t a good look for you,” she whispered solemnly to the girl in the glass. Sorrow had strained her vocal cords, making her voice hoarse and scratchy. Absentmindedly, Wanda ran trembling fingers through the long waves of her hair as she mulled over what her brother had told her through the door. People, strangers, would be in their home soon.

She remembered how Pietro had mentioned that members of his new track team wanted to come over, to know him better. Well, of course they did. She knew Pietro was a spectacle to behold and undoubtably the fastest thing they had ever witnessed. She knew that they didn’t actually care about her brother. Not the real him, anyway. Not the transfer student, the outsider, with the silly little accent, and pale face that was just too pretty, and baby-blue eyes too wide, too bright for his own good.

She knew that they only wanted him for his speed, not his companionship. They wanted Pietro Maximoff the trophy winner, the record breaker, the golden boy of their hometown. But gold just didn’t suit him. Wanda was seething, trembling with rage, furious at these strangers for coming into their home, for using Pietro for their own advantage.

She would protect her brother from these poachers as best as she knew how. She wanted to burst from her room and demand for him to send them away, to bar them from ever intruding into their haven. Wanda jumped to her feet with determination, momentarily woozy from standing too quickly, but as she approached her door, a tidal wave of memories from their altercation flooded her, and she froze beneath the icy tide.

“Would he even listen to me if I tried to speak with him?” she muttered as the embarrassment of her rejection washed over her, and she picked inattentively at the peeling skin on her lip, ignoring the mental phantom of Pietro nagging her for having such bad habit. Pietro had… betrayed her. She knew in her heart of hearts that he loved her, craved her as she did him, and yet, from his high pedestal of morality, he denied her.

Then, a lightbulb illuminated her consciousness, bright and invigorating, breathing life into a most nefarious idea, and a wide, manic smile creeped across her features. She could use these strangers to her advantage, perhaps, for surely, they were men. And they would be predictable, like animals, like snarling beasts from which her overprotective brother would surely guard her from. After all, Pietro had always been the jealous type.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took too long for me to post. I just kept writing and writing and ended up with wayyy to much content, so I will be splitting it into two chapters. On the bright side, the next chapter will be up tomorrow, if not sooner!


	5. Tantalized

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The longest chapter yet! I wanted to post today a sort of celebration for the finale of WandaVision. I adored the show, and would love to see a possible return of ATJ's Quicksilver in Doctor Strange and the Multiverse of Madness :3

Pietro

Pietro paced back and forth in the small foyer near the front door, wringing his hands together anxiously as he listened for approaching footsteps. The time was 3:05, so they would be arriving any minute. They. The captain and co-captain. Pietro became ridged with the realization that he couldn’t remember their names. In his phone, he had saved the captain’s number under the name “track team leader?” which wasn’t very helpful.

‘ _The captain’s name was… was… Something Evans? Yeah, and the other one started with… a “J” I think? Maybe...? Hopefully, this will be good enough, like nicknames or something._ ’ As he thought, he moved his thumb to his mouth to chew his nail but dropped his hand at the memory of Wanda nagging him for having such a bad habit.

Wanda. He hadn’t heard so much as a peep from her room, whatsoever. His sister was notoriously silent when she wanted to be, which was most of the time. He had jokingly suggested once that she wear a bell around her neck like a cat, so that he wouldn’t be startled by her accidentally sneaking up behind him. Mama had always said that Wanda was ‘quiet as a church mouse,’ and Pietro smiled pensively at the melancholy memory.

A loud knock at the door shocked him back to the present, and Pietro took a deep breath to calm himself before turning the handle. With as ~~fake~~ happy of an expression as he could muster, Pietro greeted his guests, and across the threshold stepped the two men. The first, the taller one with perfectly combed, caramel hair, a cleanly shaved face, and blindingly white teeth was the captain, Evans. He had a sincere way of speaking and had been very kind and encouraging at tryouts.

The other, J, was of the smallest stature of the three. With a plain face and muddy brown hair, he didn’t have much going for him in the looks department either. Pietro recalled him being slightly full of himself, boisterous even, and just annoying overall. Pietro was more than confident in his own skills, but unlike this guy’s ‘in your face’ approach, he preferred to let his running do the talking.

“Pietro, good to see you,” Evans greeted and gripped Pietro with the firmest handshake he had ever experienced. “This is for you.” He extended his arm, offering a bottle wrapped in shining tissue paper. “It’s a Sokovian wine I picked up from the local world market. I figured you could use a drink, since you’re technically underage in this country,” he chuckled warmly.

“Wow, this… is great. You’re very kind. Thank you,” Pietro was genuinely moved by the gift, as it was previously unknown to him that Sokovia even exported wine. He hadn’t been expecting any presents, and certainly couldn’t have predicted something so thoughtful. He proposed that perhaps Evans was truly as good of a guy as he seemed.

“You’re a part of the team now, and that makes you like family. We look after each other,” he affirmed with a nod. As _great_ of a guy as he seemed.

“Hey, kid,” J announced with a wave of his hand, offering no pleasantries but was quick to remind Pietro of his seniority, of course. “Nice place,” he continued as he strode past the pair, through the entryway and into the apartment.

Sure, J’s statement was just a formality. Pietro knew their “place” wasn’t much. By American standards, it was just a simply furnished, two-bedroom, one-bathroom apartment, but for he and Wanda, this was by far the most luxurious place they had ever called home. Pietro gestured for he and Evans to follow, and they continued into the heart of the residence.

In the living room, a plush, grey sofa sat parallel to the glass coffee table, across from two matching armchairs with an accent table nestled between them, and a run-of-the-mill flat screen was arranged at the end of the ensemble. Several lamps of varying sizes and heights stood here and there, illuminating the area, two wooden bookshelves, filled with novels, knickknacks, and Wanda’s little houseplants, lined the warm, ivory walls, and the entire right side of the room was almost entirely glass, one big window, overlooking the golden afternoon of the bustling city.

The two settled on either side of the couch, leaving a cushion open between them, and Pietro detoured to the left, into the kitchen, to put the wine away before joining them in one of the twin chairs. He wasn’t exactly shy, but he was at a loss for what to say. He should have turned the tv to some random channel for background noise. An awkward moment passed before anyone broke the silence.

“So, do you live here alone? Have any family nearby?” Evans inquired as he shifted to prop his elbows on his knees.

“I, um…” Pietro faltered, unsure how to answer. If he lied about Wanda’s existence, he would most likely be found out sooner or later. He could admit to having a sister but wasn’t sure how to cover for her. He couldn’t just tell them that she was hiding in her bedroom. That would be rude, and he didn’t want to give them a bad impression of his favorite person. Maybe he could say that she was at the bookstore? Tea shop? But then what happens when she never comes home? Before he could toil any further, Pietro was distracted by the opening and closing of a door in the hallway.

“Pietro! Why did you not tell me our guests had arrived?” Wanda’s voice rang out from behind him like a silver bell, sweet and clear and confident. Pietro had never been so…bewildered? She stepped out from the hall, and he swore he saw both J and Evans swallow their tongues at the sight of her. They stood to greet her with eyes nearly popping from their skulls, and as she fluttered around Pietro’s chair, the reason for their reactions became clear.

Wanda had dressed in a scarlet turtleneck top made from a thin material that hugged her curves tightly and accentuated her bosom, a black, pleated skirt that sat snuggly around her slender waist, barely covering the curve of her ass, and black thigh-high stockings. She had adorned her dainty fingers with several rings and tamed her hair into long, chocolate waves that bounced with her every move. Pietro couldn’t take eyes off of her, and he prayed that he wasn’t blushing.

“I’m Wanda, Pietro’s twin sister,” she introduced herself with a giggle. “And before you ask, yes, I’m the smart one.” Apparently, what she said had been _very_ funny because Evans and J both laughed like it was the most hilarious joke they had ever heard. They were already under her spell. They extended their hands to shake hers, but Wanda batted them away in favor of hugging them…? And kissing each of their cheeks…? Like some fucking stereotypical European. That wasn’t even a custom in Sokovia.

‘ _What the_ fuck _is she doing??_ ’ Pietro gripped the arms of his chair, knuckles turning white as he watched his sister press her body, her lips against these strangers. On a normal day, Wanda would probably refuse to even show her face around unfamiliar people, let alone speak to and touch them, yet the pale pink shape of her kiss decorated their faces. What kind of alternate universe had he accidentally stumbled into?

“It is alright for me to sit here?” Wanda inquired with a thicker accent then usual as she gestured to the center cushion of the couch, beaming brightly at the two other men.

“No. I mean, yes! Yes! Please have a seat,” J stumbled over his words like an idiot, eager to answer her. Wanda thanked him and made herself comfortable, nestled between the shoulders of these two strangers she met but moments ago.

‘ _So, this is what it is like to see Wanda for the first time_ ,’ Pietro had known her all his life, but she never failed to take his breath away. Her face was perfectly painted with stunning makeup that accentuated the sharp angles of her cheekbones and jaw. Dark, smokey pigments wreathed her eyes, enhancing the ferocity of her emerald gaze. His sister glared pointedly at him from across the room, and suddenly he felt naked, like she could see right through him. She probably could.

She winked at him, quick and sexy, and realization struck Pietro like lightning. This was all an act. A game. A game to make him _jealous_. And she was winning. Hell, she had made Pietro feel like a spectator to his worst nightmare, like he was in the pits of hell. These assholes were free to do as they pleased with her, and he coudn't do a damn thing about it. He couldn't show a single ounce of the jealousy he felt because, after all, he wasn't her boyfriend. He was her _twin brother_.

“So, Wanda. Pietro hadn’t mentioned that he had a sister. I mean, I know we didn’t have much of a chance to talk at tryouts, but I feel like someone as-” Evans eyed the supple flesh of her exposed thighs “-exquisite as you is worth mentioning.” Fucking bastard was trying to spit game at her, at _his sister_. Right in front of him. Wanda grinned and giggled in a false show of flattery. One that only Pietro knew was fake. For a girl that barely had any social interaction under her belt, she was far too good at this.

“Aww, big brother! You didn’t tell them about me?” Wanda whined playfully with an exaggerated pout. There was that term again: ‘big brother.’ Pietro grit his teeth, but laughed, playing along, unable to dispute.

“Sorry, Wanda, I was too busy trying to keep up with these guys,” he lied with a chuckle, raising his hands in a false surrender. The crowd seemed pleased with his acting. He felt like a dancing monkey at a fucking carnival.

“Oh, I am sure. They do seem-“ Wanda walked her fingers up both of the legs to either of her sides, stepping in time with each syllable “- _very_ fast.” One. Two. Three times she touched the thighs of these other men and giggled playfully. They were blushing like fools while Pietro’s body burned with rage.

“Shall I bring some waters for everyone? I will be right back.” With a wink, she sauntered into the kitchen. Making sure to embellish the sway her hips so that every eye in the room would be enchanted by her. Once she disappeared into the adjoined room, Pietro returned his attention to the two men, the two vile beasts that sat across from him as his blood boiled in his veins.

Evans cleared his throat, adjusting the collar of his shirt and fidgeting with one of its many buttons. J crossed his legs, most likely in hopes of concealing the slow but steady pitch of his pants tent. He had invited them into his home, and here they were, practically drooling over his sister. His twin. His Wanda. She was _his_. No one else’s. He would make sure of it.

Wanda returned promptly with four iced waters on a small, plastic tray, looking very pleased with herself. She turned first towards Pietro with her back to the others, handing him his glass, and smirking tauntingly. Oh, how badly Pietro wished that he wasn’t stuck in this trap of social convention. His sister moved on, turning her attention to their guests, the intruders.

“One for you…” Wanda chimed with a sing-song voice as she leaned down to distribute the remaining glasses. “And one for you!” She bowed a bit farther than necessary, and Pietro nearly bit his tongue off.

His sexy fucking minx of a sister wasn’t wearing any damn panties beneath that too short skirt of hers. Her bare pussy was on full display for him, only for him. Him alone. All pink and soft, nestled between the milky flesh of her supple ass and creamy thighs. It was even more beautiful, more… adorable(?) than he had imagined, than he had dreamed of. His mouth tasted of copper, but he didn’t give a damn.

‘ _Am I dreaming? There is no way this is actually fucking happening_ ,’ Pietro decided that, in the grand scope of things, it didn’t matter if this was some illusion or not, for he would savor this either way. His head was spinning as he eyed her hungrily and did his best to keep his breathing under control. On the outside, he maintained his cool, level-headed charade, but internally, he was a rabid, panting, starving dog. A mutt that had to sit and lick his chops while the most tender and juicy cut of meat was dangled inches from his snapping fangs.

The two idiots sang their grateful praises of her hospitality while blissfully unaware of Wanda’s um, cheeky display and of just how close Pietro was to losing his fucking mind. He was fully bewitched by his sister who had returned to her seat between Evans and J, between the traitors, as if that were the most normal, natural place for her to be.

Time felt like it had all but frozen, and the world around him moved at a miserable, crawling pace. Dragging his nude body across a cheese grater would have made for a more pleasurable experience. Conversations prattled on and on, but Pietro was hardly involved as he had zoned out, too distracted by Wanda. He was mesmerized by every move she made, every curl of her lips, despite not being able to hear or decipher a single word she said through his mental fog.

Until J casually placed a grubby hand on her leg, on the soft, pale, exposed skin of her thigh, well above the top of her sock, and Pietro leapt to his feet, vision tinged with red. The motion had occurred so quickly; he could barely process that he had moved at all. The three occupants of the sofa jumped, startled by his sudden, explosive movement. He didn’t know what to say, but at least J had moved his hand. Good. Pietro had been one second from severing it from his vile body.

“I, um,” Pietro took a deep breath before continuing. “I am suddenly not feeling very well. Sorry, but I think I have to cut short this, um, meeting,” he spoke too quickly, struggling to find the words, the English words, that needed to be said in order to remove these men, these fucking predators, from his home. In a whirlwind of “hope you feel better”s and “see you at the track”s and “it was nice hanging with you”s, Pietro ushered them to the door and said his goodbyes.

“Byeee! See you soon!” Wanda called to the departing figures from right behind him. Pietro closed the door and locked all three locks. He turned slowly, eerily, to face his twin sister, to tower over her with a stony, soulless expression, and she was fucking smirking at him.

In the blink of an eye, Pietro had confined Wanda against the wall with on hand on either side of her head as he struggled to contain himself. She didn’t yelp in surprise or protest in the slightest. She continued to glare up at him smugly, tauntingly.

“Are you going to explain what that was all about? Huh? Parading around like some fucking cheap whore?” His voice was low, gravelly as his breathing became ragged with fury.

“What ever do you mean, big brother?” Feigning ignorance, Wanda pouted at him with wide, helpless eyes before bursting out in a fit of laughter. “Don’t be stupid, Pietro. I won’t respond to questions that you already know the answer to.” Her tone turned serious as she mocked him. “You did this to yourself. Enjoy your punishment of wallowing in loneliness,” she concluded coldly.

Her eyes were dark with the rage that she had been hiding, that had been buried beneath her ditzy, playful act. She ducked underneath Pietro’s arm, storming away to more than likely lock herself in her room and hide from him again. He wanted to talk to her, god damn it. He wanted to fix things, to mend the tear in their bond, for he was the one who caused this damage. He was the one who hurt her.

Pietro dashed after her, and with frantic, outstretched fingers, he reached for her, to stop her, make her listen. Instead of latching onto her shoulder or her shirt, he had accidentally grabbed a handful of her long hair and pulled it roughly. Wanda threw her head back, crying out in a loud moan in response to the pricking pain on her scalp.

The twins both froze for a long, heart pounding moment before Wanda finally turned to look back at her brother. The bright blush of her cheeks matched the scarlet of her shirt, and her emerald eyes glistened brightly with tears of embarrassment and shame.

The adorable look on her face and the noise she made, that _delicious_ fucking noise that Pietro himself had elicited from her, broke him. His will snapped in two. The wall he had constructed to restrain his feelings came crumbling down, and a flood of emotions, of desires, washed over him. Wanda. His precious little sister. He _needed_ her. Now.

He pulled her to him, urgently wrapping one arm around her waist, holding her firmly against his chest, as the other hand gripped the nape of her neck, tilting her face up to his own before crashing his mouth against hers. And then Pietro was kissing her, rough and desperate, like she would disappear into nothing if he were to let up his onslaught. It felt so natural, her lips against his. It was like breathing, like dreaming. Nothing had ever made more sense.

The pink of her lips tasted so sweet, candied by her strawberry lip balm, as he suckled them hungrily. He delved his tongue into the warmth of her wanting mouth, claiming her, drinking her in as her soft little moans spilled out. But it wasn’t enough. Pietro wanted more. So much more.

“Yes… Oh yes, my Wanda, my precious. Let me hear your pretty noises,” Pietro cooed as he kissed along her jaw and down her neck to suck lovely bruises atop her pulse, slowly tightening his grip before pulling her hair sharply. Wanda cried out with pleasure, throwing her head back just as before. She was slowly growing limp in his arms, and Pietro was sure she was probably dizzy from his intensity.

He pulled away, cupping her face in his hands, to take in her flustered form. Her anger and frustration had melted away to reveal her true self: a blushing, needy, desperate mess that gazed up at him longingly. Planting a gentle kiss to her forehead first, he then swooped down to gather up his twin, bridal style. She fit perfectly in his arms, and Pietro was sure that there was no better place in the world for her to be.

“So, _little sister_ , your bedroom or mine?” he inquired with a cheeky smirk, relishing in the way Wanda’s blush deepened at the question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe, the twins are on the same page again, and finally acting on their feelings! Please look forward to the next smut filled chapter very soon! <3  
> This chapter was a bit of a chore to write since I had to juggle two other characters, but can you guess which two MCU characters they were inspired by?


	6. The Hand in Hers

Wanda

“So, _little sister_ , your bedroom or mine?” he inquired with a cheeky smirk, and Wanda couldn’t help but blush at the question, surprised by his gradually increasing boldness, but thankful for it, nonetheless. Truth be told, she was still trying to process the emotional whiplash that had occurred in the last few minutes. She had been so furious before, but now, she was absolutely over the moon with her head spinning from Pietro’s sudden, amorous intensity.

Pietro had kissed her! Really, actually, finally kissed her! It had been just as wonderful, as magical as her fantasies, just like she had dreamed of for _oh so long_. Pietro accepting her feelings along with his own was everything she could have ever wanted, and at long last, it was finally happening. Now, he was holding her in his arms like a princess, waiting for an answer.

“Yours… I think,” she replied softly with a shy smile after a bit of consideration. “I have always pictured your bed when imagining this… Us, together.” Her heart fluttered at the admission, but she felt no shame or embarrassment, only anticipation.

“Sounds good to me,” he chimed and plucked another chaste kiss before journeying the short trek to his room. After pushing the door ajar with his foot, he strode inside to gently lay Wanda atop his bed and switch on his only lamp, illuminating the space with its soft, warm glow.

Snuggling into the messy nest of blue and grey blankets, Wanda inhaled deeply, delighting in the comforting aromas that had been infused into the sheets: the sweet amber of his cologne, warm, spiced cinnamon from his shampoo, and a hint of rich, hazelnut coffee. Her head came to rest on the same pillow she had slept on the previous night and awoken atop that morning. That morning. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Pietro joined her, sitting on the side of the bed, reaching out to stroke Wanda’s hair gently, and Wanda craned into the affection, humming in contentment.

“Can I…? Um,” He gestured to the mattress, inquiring, in an almost uncharacteristic display of patience, and she nodded. That was the best reply she could offer as her breathing had become shaky and uneven, and speaking at all would surely reveal just how much her nerves had set in. The bed shifted with Pietro’s weight as he climbed up and settled above her with one hand to either side of her head.

His face hovered just inches from her own, so close that Wanda could feel the feverish heat that radiated from his skin. At last, his eyes found hers, brilliantly blue, bright, and intense, and she blushed beneath the weight of his gaze. She just couldn't help it; he was just too damn pretty.

“I love you, Wanda,” he whispered, almost breathlessly, in awe as he continued to pet her head and curl her chocolate locks around his fingers. “So much it aches when we are apart. I would do anything for you, my darling. I am yours, always.”

“I love you too, Pietro. My heart, my soul, and my body all belong to you. Only you, forever.” Her eyes pooled with tears of joy, but she blinked them back, swearing to herself that she would not cry and dampen this moment with tears as she reached up to cup his face, stroking his cheek. Eclipsing her hand with his own, Pietro held it tightly, interlacing their fingers and kissing her palm and wrist, letting his mouth linger on her petal-soft skin with each tender kiss.

“You tell me right away if something is wrong or if I do something, anything, that hurts you, understand? I want you to be comfortable, to enjoy yourself, so promise me,” his heartfelt plea breezed across her lips, and while offering a small smile of reassurance, Wanda shook her head.

“You could never hurt me, Pietro, but I promise,” With her golden seal of approval, his mouth fell onto hers, his lips soft and sweet as he kissed her so lovingly.

Wanda could sense that he was restraining himself, containing his desire, and letting her set their pace, so she returned the kiss with vigor, eagerly flicking her tongue over his bottom lip. Pietro was quick to match her urgency, meeting her tongue with his own. Wanda moaned into him, submitting, letting him explore her mouth as he pleased. His feverish kisses began journeying from her lips, along her jaw, and to her neck, but the fabric of Wanda’s turtleneck faltered his progress.

“Can I take this off?” he breathed against her ear, tugging at the hem of her top.

“Yes,” she replied meekly, thankful that she had worn her prettiest bra, the one made of intricate, black lace, decorated with a little, silk bow. The chilled air nipped at her exposed skin as he peeled the garment from her, and she shivered. Not from the cold, but from the blazing intensity of Pietro’s desirous gaze, darkened by the same hunger that had shadowed his eyes on the couch before. The sight twisted her stomach into knots and set her skin aflame.

Pietro wasted no time and returned his mouth to the pale flesh of her neck, growing more and more passionate by the second, kissing and sucking roughly atop her pulse. Wanda felt pretty bruises begin bloom beneath his endeavors. His hands interlocked behind her head, tangling fingers in her hair, pulling her into his onslaught greedily. Burning desire crawled through her veins and began to puddle between her twitching thighs.

Wanda’s head was already spinning from the intensity of his passion when he sank his teeth suddenly, harshly into the delicate junction of her neck and shoulder. She yelped, arching off the mattress as far as she could beneath her brother’s weight. The sharp pain quickly melted into scorching pleasure and her cry morphed into a whimpering, gasping moan as he held the pressure, marking her with crimson, crescent-shaped love bites.

“Ah! You do like to play rough,” Pietro’s low, smokey voice tickled her feverish skin as he chuckled against her throat triumphantly. ”I could tell by how you moaned so _deliciously_ when I pulled your hair earlier.” Wanda was speechless, and her cheeks glowed bright pink as she was unable to deny his words.

She had always been intrigued by the curiously pleasurable side of pain, and now that she had gotten just a taste of it, of relinquishing control, of letting her brother test the limits of her desire, she craved more. He pulled away from her, hovering just above her face, piercing her with his azure gaze, for his mask of hesitation had fallen away; his cage of restraint had been flung wide open.

“I am going to find each of your most sensitive places, sister. I’m going to drive you mad with pleasure,” he whispered against her ear, punctuating his statement with a quick nip at the shell before licking up the length and sucking on her lobe. Wanda’s fingers jumped to tangle themselves in Pietro’s silver hair, pulling frantically as her whole body trembled and her back arched once more. “Looks like I found one,” he taunted before renewing his incursion.

They had barely even started, and Wanda was already pathetically wet, already falling apart at her seams. Writhing beneath him, her moans echoed throughout the silence of the room, muffled to her by her brother’s steadfast breath, hot and heavy, in her ear. Pietro’s lightly calloused fingertips roamed Wanda’s body, sprouting goosebumps in their wake. One hand settled on her nape to tug at her hair while the other pawed roughly at her breast through the lace of her bra.

“Take this off for me,” he commanded in frustration of the garment’s hindrance. Wanda took a moment to catch her breath before pushing herself on shaking arms into a sitting position and unclasping her bra. Upon motioning to slide the straps down her shoulders, her fingers grew rigid, frozen by a sudden influx of nerves.

The twins had seen each other naked many times but not since they were adolescents, not since they had grown into their bodies and matured into adults. Almost daily, they would lounge around in just t-shirts and underwear, and quite often, Pietro would often forgo a shirt all together. Was this really so different? Had she not just been teasing him by purposefully exposing her bare privates?

“Where has your confidence gone, little sister? So much enthusiasm for those other men, those strangers… Did you save none for me?” His tone was cold, wavering with jealousy as he turned away from her, brow furrowed with all the heart-wrenching sorrow of a kicked puppy, and guilt struck Wanda like a stinging slap to the face.

“P-Pietro, no. That was… I… am sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I was being thoughtless and so selfish. I just wanted _your_ attention, brother. I. Am. _Yours._ All yours,” she stammered her truth, eager to reassure him, to comfort him, and to mend the moment with words she had always known but never uttered aloud. He met her gaze once more, inquisitive as he analyzed her statement, and Wanda watched his eyes cloud with renewed lust at her submissive admission. Slowly, he extended his arm, reaching out to stroke her cheek, the back of his fingers were feather-light against her skin, and she shivered as chills crawled along her spine.

“All mine…” he echoed affirmatively as his possessive nature began to take over. He flipped his hand over, grasped Wanda’s jaw gently, and titled her face up to meet his. His grip, while not painful, was firm as he squished her blushing cheeks, causing the soft pink of her lips to fall open.

“…So, take it off. Now.” The low whisper of his voice was tinged with impatience, but indisputably dominating, nonetheless. It sent a blazing wave of arousal to her already dripping core. Pietro had always been the natural leader of their duo, but never had she seen him so assertive, not to her, anyway. She _adored_ it. Sliding the straps down her slender shoulders and off her arms, fueled by her eagerness to obey, she pulled her bra from her body and let her breasts, round and full, fall, fully bare before him.

In the blink of an eye, Pietro’s body was against hers once more, his weight collapsing them down onto the mattress. He forcefully licked and nipped down her neck and collarbones, marking her pale skin as his passions trailed to her breasts. Sparks danced atop Wanda’s skin, and a shaky gasp burst from her as the tip of his tongue flicked at her nipple experimentally before capturing it in his steamy mouth, suckling greedily.

“Ahh Pietro!! M-my nipples are r-really sensitive,” she cried, whimpering as the pinpricks of his teeth teased the delicate nub.

“Oh, I am sure they are,” he chuckled, low and smokey, and returned his mouth to kiss all over the supple flesh of her breast, pinching her other budding nipple between his fingertips, pulling and twisting the little, pink bud roughly. Weak from the accumulating pleasure, each of Wanda’s twitching limbs felt as though they had melted as she endured his ravenous onslaught, moaning with every move he made.

Pietro’s curious fingers traveled down to knead her soft stomach, to clutch her hip with a bruising grasp, and to pull the pleated fabric of her skirt from her body, leaving her now dressed in only her black, thigh-high stockings. With a wet pop, he pulled his mouth from her breast and sat back to take in the breathtaking sight of her.

“My darling, my Wanda… You are so beautiful,” her brother muttered as his eyes traveled over her body, the pale, purpling bruises and bites that decorated her neck and chest, her pink, pebbled nipples and soft, full breasts, and her creamy thighs that protruded over the top of her stockings. His cobalt gaze came to rest on her flushed face, and her own gaze was half-lidded and dreamy as her head spun, intoxicated by him. He gripped her thighs with both of his large hands, and with her legs now parted, she was on full display for him.

“So wet… Is all this for me?” Pietro teased.

“Y-yes, brother,” Embarrassed, Wanda closed her eyes, turning her head away to hide her shame. Listening carefully with breath bated by anticipation, she heard the rustling of blankets and felt the mattress shift beneath her as Pietro repositioned.

“I want to taste you,” he breathed against her dripping entrance, punctuating himself with a long lick up her slit, eliciting a sharp cry of surprise from Wanda as her eyes flew open to see Pietro laying between her legs, one thigh in each hand. “Delicious,” Flashing a cheeky wink, he trailed his mouth along the tender flesh of her inner thigh, obviously amused by the way she jumped with each suckling kiss.

The flat of his tongue ran up her slit again as he drank her in, and with trembling fingers, Wanda’s hands scrambled for purchase, twisting the sheets in her clenched fists. The sensation was all so new, so tantalizing; she gasped and moaned with each shaky breath. His lips fell on her pink folds with gentle kisses and licks, exploring her heat curiously. He sucked one lip into his mouth greedily and then the other before pushing his tongue inside her. Again and again, he pierced her with its slimy length, and when he began to twist it within her, Wanda clasped her hand over her mouth to stifle a scream and clamped her twitching legs around Pietro’s head.

“Keep these open, Wanda. Don’t make me restrain you,” he barked and tightened his grip on her, sinking his teeth into the tender flesh of her thigh for emphasis “And don’t cover your mouth. You know I love your pretty noises.” Pathetic whimpers were the only reply she could offer as she was losing herself in him. Two of Pietro fingers prodded her entrance, coating in her generous slick before slowly penetrating and pushing inside.

Emerald eyes rolling back, Wanda writhed at the sweet stinging of her stretching around his fingers, and he started to pump them into her, filling the room with the sound of her lewd wetness. When his mouth returned to her drenched cunt to tease her throbbing clit with little flicks of his tongue, Wanda rolled her hips into him, desperate for more friction.

“AAhn ‘Tro, I- I’m close…” she whined, voice high with urgency as she balanced on the knife’s edge of her release.

“What’s that? I can’t hear you when you use such a meek voice, sister,” he taunted, swirling his tongue _around_ her clit in frustratingly light circles, purposely avoiding the sensitive, little nub. The fingers within her twisted and curled, rubbing against the most perfect spot, and pure ecstasy raced through her veins. _So_ close.

“G-god _damn it_ , Pietro! I- Ahhh!” Wanda screeched, overwhelmed with white-hot desire, infuriated by her brother’s teasing. This was their first time together, but it felt like Pietro had a lifetime’s worth of experience, like he knew her body, her limits, better than she did. He knew exactly how to work her, how to make her sing and dance at his whim, how to bring her right to the edge but catch her before she could fall.

“So precious, so needy. Let me hear you beg for it, just as you begged your _imaginary_ brother this morning,” he cooed with a smirk, completely drunk on his power over her. Bright pink embarrassment burned Wanda’s cheeks at the realization of his statement. _Oh my god_. Pietro had heard her begging for him, seen her getting off while imagining him, and he hadn’t said a single word about it. Smug fucking _bastard_!

Her focus was snatched back to reality as Pietro slipped his free hand beneath her to roughly knead the supple flesh of her ass, and she moaned, arching into the contact while his other hand was still busy, buried to the knuckles, wriggling within her dripping, trembling pussy.

“Let’s hear it, Wanda! Just like this morning,” Pietro growled, growing more and more impatient by the second, the heat of his demand engulfing her with the will to throw her pride to the wind and obey him.

“Aahh! B-big brother, ple-ease! P-please let me cu-um” she squealed as hot tears began to stream down her cheeks. She was drowning in her desperation, in the waves of swelling pleasure, and only he could save her. Seemingly satisfied with her trembling plea, Pietro increased the speed of his fingers and encircled her clit in his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue around the oversensitive pearl, and Wanda’s vision went white as her orgasm crashed over her.

“Aahhh!! P-Pietro-oh-oh,” Her strained voice was like a broken record, crying the final syllable of his name with every gasping breath as her back arched off the mattress and her hands flew to his head, tangling frantic fingers in his silvery hair, locking him in place, and flooding his face with her love. His suction on her clit was unwavering, pulling her beneath the swirling waves of absolute bliss again and again.

Pietro skillfully rolled her delicate nub between his teeth as her walls continued to flutter around his fingers, and Wanda drenched his eager mouth once again as she crested her third consecutive orgasm. Too many bright, shimmering stars danced behind her eyes as her shrill cries caught in her throat, and her slender body writhed helplessly.

Oversensitive, overstimulated, and overwhelmed, she could barely breathe, drowning in the seemingly endless pleasure. It was all becoming too much. She had begged for this, but Pietro, of course, would go above and beyond, give her far more than she bargained for, just because he could.

“S-silver! Silver-er!” Wanda whimpered, proclaiming the only word she could muster as both a curse and a desperate prayer as her consciousness waned, and thankfully, Pietro understood the impromptu safe word and withdrew from her completely. Taking a moment to chuckle to himself and admire his handiwork, he removed his shirt to wipe Wanda’s dripping juices from his face before crawling up to hold her, cradle her in his arms, and pepper sweet kisses on her cheeks and forehead.

“Shh, it’s okay. Everything is okay. I have you,” he cooed while stroking her hair, soothing her as her body, coated in a thin sheen of perspiration, tensed and trembled with aftershocks “My sweet, my darling Wanda. Oh, you did so good. Such a good girl.” His soft praises fluttered, warm and bright, in Wanda’s chest, and in her dizzied state, she was wholly enchanted by his words.

“Y-you think I’m… a good girl?” she inquired breathlessly, eager for more of his fantastical magic.

“Oh, yes. The very best girl. So beautiful and precious to me,” Pietro whispered as he tightened his hold, wrapping her in his loving embrace, her favorite place in the world. So secure, so warm… Maybe, _too_ warm?

Every sense in Wanda’s body felt like it had been dialed up to the max. Her skin was oversensitive, tingling like she had been burned from head to toe, and her mind was a bright, swirling mess of too many emotions all at once. Hot tears began to pool in Wanda’s eyes, and before she realized it, she was sobbing and burying her face in his bare chest.

“Wanda?! Baby, what’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurting?” Voice thick with concern, Pietro captured her face in his hands, baby-blue eyes darting over her features, analyzing, evaluating her distress.

“No, I’m n-not hurt at all. I-I am happy! S-so happy that this has finally happened, t-that we are together, like this, but also just a l-little overwhelmed,” she stammered, hands shaking as she tried to wipe the streaming tears from her flushed cheeks “I’m s-sorry. I didn’t mean to cry. I promised myself that I wouldn’t... It’s all just so m-much.”

“No, _I’m_ sorry Wan. I think I got a little carried away…” he muttered, guilt plaguing him as he kissed her forehead tenderly. “How about we take a break, hm? We can cool down, get you some water and-“ Pietro was interrupted by a sudden, boisterous grumbling from Wanda’s stomach, and the twins burst into a fit of rolling laughter.

“I was _just_ about to say, ‘something to eat’,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “You haven’t eaten since breakfast, have you? Can’t have that… How does take-out sound? From that place by the bookstore?”

“Sounds _perfect_ ,” Wanda beamed at Pietro and took his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together. Her heart fluttered, happier that she had ever been, overjoyed by the most modest of affections simply because the hand in hers was _his_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Together at last <3  
> Next chapter they’ll go all the way! It will probably be the last but definitely the longest chapter! Stay tuned :3

**Author's Note:**

> My first multi-chapter work! Please comment to let me know what you think, but only if you're going to be nice. Any hate will be deleted.


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